The harmonies of a long dead choir.
The fragrance of a bloom, extinct a thousand years.
The light from a star, millennia cold.
Last winter\'s snow.
It was, it is no more.
Its beauty filled a moment
That moment, and a million like it
Gone.
Beauty and memory are poisoned alchemy.
The thick, saccharine venom is wrung from the heart nerve
Nostalgia, a dignified name for the worship of decay.